


We're Not Just Friends

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies to More, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6184033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone knew what they were doing, they'd probably assume it was something only slightly friendlier than hate sex, but the truth was that they'd been friends for a long while now, despite the antagonistic beginnings of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote a Stackson thing for inell who sent the prompt "we're not just friends and you fucking know it", and there'll be more because she sent me a bunch of prompts...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (and please let me know what you think!)

If anyone knew what they were doing, they'd probably assume it was something only slightly friendlier than hate sex, but the truth was that they'd been friends for a long while now, despite the  _ antagonistic _ beginnings of their relationship.

 

They'd hang out, without the benefit or impediment of any of the rest of their friends as a buffer. They'd text and talk on the phone and exchange stupid pictures. They even cuddled after sex sometimes. But Stiles was starting to feel a little… something. In his chest. And it was unsettling, to say the least. 

 

A sharp bite on his neck draws him out of his distraction with a hiss. Jackson's hand tightens in his hair as he licks at the indents his teeth made on Stiles’ skin, soothing the sing with lazy swirls of his tongue. “You with me, man,” he asks with a slow roll of his hips.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm with you,” Stiles answers, his voice betraying his uncertain feelings with a wistful tone he covers by pulling Jackson's mouth to his and licking his way inside. Jackson moans into the kiss and pulls Stiles impossibly closer, touching their hips together for a moment before sneaking his hand between them to tug Stiles’ half undone pants out of the way. He wraps a warm, sure hand around Stiles’ achingly hard length and slides his palm over the dripping slit, smearing precome over the head of Stiles’ dick and making Stiles groan and tighten his grip on Jackson's shoulder and hip. Stiles wishes for a moment that they were against the wall and not in the middle of his bedroom, so that he had something to lean against.

 

Jackson moans into his mouth as Stiles sucks his tongue in a parody of fellatio before fucking his own tongue into Jackson's mouth as his hips rut back and forth, driving his cock into Jackson's fist. The kiss breaks with a loud groan from both of them, and as they pant to catch their breath, Stiles hears something that sounds like “ _ Fuck, babe _ " fall from Jackson's mouth, muffled by Stiles’ shoulder where his head is resting, and it startles the question out of him before he can think better of it.

 

“What are we doing,” it sounds breathless and strangely not like a question, and Jackson looks at him with a scrunched brow and a pout, even as they continue to move together, inching toward the bed and rolling their hips together as their hands roam over bared torsos and half clothed bottoms.

 

“Well, right now I'm trying to get us on the bed. And then I'd like for us to fuck, maybe even twice, before we pass out,” Jackson deadpans, punctuating his statement with measured pulls and squeezes along Stiles’ length.

 

Stiles moans, leans forward to kiss Jackson's bottom lip, holding it gently between his teeth as he pulls away, releasing it with a quick nip and apologetic suck. “I mean, with each other, Jackson. What are we?” Stiles rakes his fingers through Jackson's hair, pulling his head back and baring his neck so he can suck a trail of kisses along the column of his throat.

 

“We're- _ mmf, don't stop _ \- we're friends, who- _ fffuck, yes- _ we're fr-friends,” Jackson stutters out between moans.

 

Stiles pulls away from the chain of bruises he's sucking onto Jackson's throat and looks at the other man with a skeptically raised eyebrow. “You're hand is on my dick, Jacks,” he fucks into the grip of Jackson's hand to illustrate his point, “We spend more nights together than apart,” he backs them toward the bed into his legs hit the frame, Jackson follows easily, led by Stiles’ grip on his hip and neck. Stiles kisses his naked shoulder, his collarbone, he takes a deep pink nipple between his teeth and sucks until Jackson is mewling. “We know all the places the other likes to be touched,” he drags a thumb across the opposite nipple, lets his nail scrape the erect nub lightly, “And kissed,” places a messy, wet kiss at Jackson's Adams apple, “And bit,” a nip at his earlobe, a swirl of tongue along the shell of his ear. 

 

“I think if you when we're not together,” Stiles whispers into his ear, hands trailing down Jackson's sides to reach around and cup his ass under his loosened jeans, squeezing and massaging the firm globes with intent. “I think you think about me, too,” he rolls his hips, thrusting his still rock hard cock against Jackson's, into his long since gone lax grip, spurring the other man to squeeze his dick with renewed enthusiasm, making Stiles groan.

 

“I think we're not just friends, and you fucking know it,” Stiles murmurs into Jackson's neck, licking a long stripe up the golden column, feeling the rush of Jackson's pulse under his tongue. He pulls away to look at the other man, hands still firmly holding his ass, using his grip as leverage to rock them together. Jackson's eyes are glazed but opened wide, surprise evident through the haze of lust, and his hands scramble and flex against Stiles’ shoulders.

 

Stiles raises a single eyebrow, which is question enough, and Jackson's answering “Yeah, yes. I- yeah,” is almost too quiet to hear, but he clears his throat halfway through and cradles Stiles’ face with both hands, smiles softly.and repeats, “Yes,” before kissing Stiles like his life depends on it. 

 

“Good,” Stiles says against his lips.

  
They fall to the bed in a  _ very  _ friendly tangle.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography) with me!


End file.
